Though it’s nearly impossible to see them all at once, there are indeed five squeaky kittens with already-discernible personalities. No names yet, but I’m working on it (Kelly has already vetoed Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon and Michael). Everybody seems to be all right, although I am remembering my own “fourth trimesters” with much sympathy.
Song du jour of the day: ABC, by the Jackson 5.
1:55 pm. A month or so ago Lilu was sniffing around my closet a lot, and I interpreted it as nesting behavior and put her basket in there with a blanket. Cats are perverse critters, so I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d opted for some other spot, but I’m pleased to note that she has chosen it as the place to have her babies. It’s dark in there, but I can see her curled up, purring, and one tiny pair of ears. There might be more kittens, I can’t see, and I don’t want to take a picture because I’m afraid the flash will disturb them, but yay! It’s begun! I’m so excited!
Song du jour of the day: Isn’t She Lovely, by Stevie Wonder.
2:05 pm. Four! Four tiny little heads! With eight tiny little ears! Also four pointy little tails! So cute!
2:35 pm. DrBob says, “Congratulations. Now we have six cats.” That’s not quite how I prefer to look at it…
3:48 pm. Another one. Five kittens.
4:58 pm. I think there’s another one now, but I can’t tell, everybody’s too squirmy. Well, this is still exciting, but I’m getting a little apprehensive. How many kittens can we find homes for? How many can Lilu have in her first litter and still be healthy? Oh dear.
I keep taking pictures of Lilu, but none of them succeeds in showing just how golompulous her belly is getting. See? 
She spends a lot of time sprawling on the floor like this, and if you look really close, you can see that her eyes aren’t even closed. She’s not sleeping, she’s just lying around waiting for it to be over. She sits oddly, has trouble jumping, falls over while bathing, can’t reach around her belly to scratch her chin, she’s almost wider than she is long at this point, and we keep telling eachother it can’t be much longer, but days drag by and there she is, still pregnant. She weighs a ton, too - she makes almost as much noise clomping down the stairs as Ignatz does.
When, oh when will this madness end?
Song du jour of the day: I Can’t Wait, by Stevie Nicks.
Okay, not really. But this is a tough time of year for fruit at Casa Alala. Apples and oranges are SO over. Grapes and kiwis still have to be flown in from Chile. The only things really ripe and semi-local at this time of year (um, Israel’s still in Europe, by Eurovision reckoning - but then, so is Algeria. What can I say, they do pop songs, not geography) are berries, and they sell for like a dollar each. And even though I haven’t actually lived in the Pacific Northwest for over ten years, I still think of it as home, and back home, berry bushes are basically weeds. I can’t bring myself to buy berries, anymore than I could plunk down $12 for a bunch of dandelions at a florist.
Song du jour of the day: Malta. They’ve never won, but they come in second a lot. They seem to have noticed that Russia tends to do well (its former satellite countries give it high points, so even when the Russian entry sucks, it comes in like third), so they name-check Gorky Park and call it Vodka, in a bid for the bloc vote. Psht. Get in line, sweetie.
Well, it’s happened. We went shoe-shopping for Ignatz yesterday (why, black Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars, of course. Whatever else?), and we were unable to buy them in my size, so I could have them when he outgrows them. My son, my offspring, the child of my womb, has bigger feet than I do.
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Kinda giving up on the whole Blog365 thing. I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I thought making myself write would keep my skills sharp through regular practice, and also sometimes things happen that I should document, but I don’t because I just don’t feel like dealing with them, and I thought daily posting would force some of those out, you know? But the only practice I’m getting is in writing slapdash whatever just to get it over with, and if I don’t feel like tackling something big, I still don’t, I just do some pointless navel-gazing and hit publish. Meh.
Also, I’m not really sick anymore, but I’m not all-the-way better. Life is back to normal, but I do tend to tank right around 10 pm, and oh look, it’s 10:15zzzz…
I will concede this about privatization: it puts more than one company in a particular market, forcing those companies to compete on price or quality or service, which is ultimately good for the customer. Remember when the government broke up AT&T’s monopoly in the 1980s and you started getting all those annoying telemarketers from Sprint and MCI trying to get you to switch (if you lived in the U.S. at the time)? Yeah, it was a pain in the ass, but now you have cheaper long-distance, or more frequent-flyer miles, or the chance to do some good when you pay your phone bill. There’s something for every market, pretty much. This is good. Read the rest of this entry »
I’m already croaky and weird-sounding. I feel better, though. Not all the way better, and very very sad whenever I do something stupid like, oh, climb a zillion stairs - did I mention that my job is on the third floor of a building with no elevator? Or walk a mile to the train station. Read the rest of this entry »
Okay, it’s not funny really, it’s probably quite illegal and I’m sure I’d be miffed if it happened to me, but still. Because it happened to people who have just re-elected Silvio Berlusconi again, even though he owns the media and is a first-class dickhead, I get to snicker.
From the Guardian: Every Italian’s income posted on internet
I should be nicer to Italy. They make the world’s best coffee, and anybody who knows my coffee-habits will know that that is anything but faint praise.
I’ll come back tomorrow and paste in the food and music stuff, because for the food? I took pictures! Ha!
Italians are apparently pleased about their return to fascism, and I’m a little mystified by this. I mean, what’s the appeal? On paper it’s about strength through unity, but if you look at what the fascists actually achieved, it’s more about being a bunch of massive, mud-sucking losers. However weak and effeminate you think democracy makes people, and however evil communism is, we pansy-ass democrats and our commie pals kicked their asses pretty solidly 60 years ago. Of course, they’ve had what, 73 governments in the last 60 years? Maybe they’ve just tried all the other kinds and it’s fascism’s turn again.
Song du jour of the day: Italy’s contribution to Eurovision, which is - oh wait. They dropped out of Eurovision over ten years ago. Wimps.
Food: Split Pea Soup, made from powdered mix. I did mince my own garlic and onions and chop up a bunch of carrots, but I am too lazy even at the best of times to wash legumes, pick out the gravel and discolored bits, soak, blah blah blah. Even more so, now that I need to limit the time I spend standing up.
Incidentally, I’m still sick. I think it may be affecting my mood somewhat.
